The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (58 page)

“How you doing, Sam?” she whispered in his ear.

“. . .”

His eyes were wide and brimming with tears. As she removed the gag, he inhaled a big suck of air. “Oh, is my hour up so soon? I thought, um . . . umph.”

Amanda laughed as she pressed the gag back in his mouth. “Ha! Losing track of time, are we? You are mine a bit longer.”

Next, she chose the quirt. This stout two-foot whip had a thick handle. The business end was tipped by a bifurcate strip of flat leather – like the tongue of a snake. She gave the air a
few swings, to loosen it up. He was now ready for some serious pain.

She put her back into it. The first strike hit both sides of his ass. His back arched. On the next, he bolted against his restraints. The nerves were compressed; she allowed time for them to
swell and expand before the next blow. A layer of capillaries under his skin ruptured, stippling his skin with reddish dots. Now she really started in on him, changing the strokes, not allowing him
the mercy of anticipation. But his ass was sticking out even more, as if hungry for each swing. Great, she thought, I am going to bring him right to the edge.

His backside took on the patina of a deep-red tattoo. By the fifteenth stroke, his struggles were making the leather horse creak. She paused, checking for the safety sign. He was fine.

She planted the last sting across both cheeks. His body shook. Finally, he let out a muffled moan.

About time, Amanda said to herself. However, he still had not signaled her to stop.

She again went to his side. His breathing was fast and deep. His face had taken on the features of a charging bull. As she pulled the ball-gag free, saliva and a puff of steam came out. He took
in a deep breath.

“Oh, man,” he said. “That was, that was fantastic!”

“Hush,” she replied. “If it was so good, why don’t you demonstrate some appreciation?”

She shifted her body to expose her latex-covered ass. He turned, placing a kiss there. He was panting. She moved, offering different areas of her backside to his attention. He reached the border
between latex and skin, planting kisses on her fishnet stockings. Amanda felt the soft moistness of his tongue through the material.

“No tongue,” she warned. He stopped for a moment, then continued, letting his lips do the work. She pulled away, leaving his last kiss to plant air. She unfastened his hands, then
his ankles. He started to rise.

“Careful,” she cautioned. “You don’t want to hurt your back.”

She steadied his arm and helped him up. Rivulets of sweat poured over his naked body as he stood. His nipples were small, tight, and hard. She walked him to the couch.

“Sit slowly,” she advised, remaining near. He was looking deep into her eyes. “Those puppy dog eyes are sweet, but did I give you permission to gaze at me?”

Sam looked down. “Uh, can I ask something?”

“Go on.”

“I would like something to drink.”

Amanda chuckled. “Sure, Sam. Just stay put. I’ll be right back.”

As she entered her office, her computer came on. There were no messages. She was surprised how worked up she had become during this whipping. Her thong was soaked! She had a full ninety minutes
before her next client, a woman with a medical fetish. Amanda needed time to prepare the “Doctor’s Office”, and get into her nurse’s outfit. As she concentrated on her new
client, Sam, a live image of him appeared on the screen. He was now standing by her terrarium, peering into its webby darkness. He tapped the glass, then his head snapped back, as if startled. Her
pet tarantula never failed to please.

There was something familiar about him. He walked over to the bullwhip she had displayed on one wall. He ran his hands over its eight-foot length. Whenever she left a submissive male unattended
after a session, they invariably wasted no time jerking off. Yet there was an unpredictability in this one’s nature. Amanda liked a challenge. She drew him a cup of water from the cooler. She
again ran his card through her strip reader. Her computer detected no visits to any other known dominatrix. No fetish clothing purchases. His most recent payment had been to a school, and he had
just purchased an airline ticket.

She returned to the room. He was still eyeing the bullwhip.

“That’s just for show,” Amanda commented.

Sam turned; he was lightly massaging his backside. “It looks evil as hell,” he said.

“Yes. In the wrong hands, that kind of whip can put someone in the emergency room.” She handed him the cup of water. “I no longer use it. I once cut someone by
mistake.”

He gulped down the drink, thanking her. She pointed to the couch. Sam obediently sat down.

“That spider!” Sam indicated the terrarium. “It’s beautiful. I never saw anything like it. Those metallic blue legs!”

“Her scientific name is
Haplopelma lividum
; the common name is the Cobalt Blue Tarantula. But I call her Nagoya.”

“Tarantulas are really harmless. Aren’t they?”

“Most are not poisonous. But the venom of this species is dangerous.”

“I see she is not afraid to use it,” laughed Sam.

“Yeah.” Amanda smiled. “If anything touches that terrarium, she zooms out of her burrow, fangs erect and dripping with poison. She is one of the aggressive species.”
Amanda’s features shifted to anger. “Enough with this nature lesson – get on your knees and entertain me!”

Sam jumped off the couch. He obediently knelt, facing Amanda. But his hands stayed at his side. He did not know what “entertainment” meant.

She never met a submissive that did not know instinctually.

“Your cock.” Amanda stood, pointing.

Sam looked down at his bobbing penis, then back at Amanda.

She almost slapped his face, but instead said, “Masturbate for me. NOW!”

“Oh,” he replied, grasping his penis. “Sorry.”

“Silence,” she commanded, “or do we need the ball-gag?”

Sam shook his head.

Amanda sat back on the couch, enjoying his little display. “Rest back on your legs, and spread them wider,” she ordered.

After he complied, he started.

“Slow down! You are going too fast,” she commented. “And don’t even
think
of coming!”

He held his cock gently, moving his hand gracefully over the taut skin. He kept his eyes downcast. After about thirty strokes, his breathing started to quicken. The muscles in his arms tensed.
His penis gave a slight pulse, and a drop of pre-come oozed from the tip, slowly dripping to the floor.

“Stop.” She patted the seat next to her. “Up here, puppy eyes.”

Sam sat beside her. She noticed another clear drop of pre-come dangling at the tip of his penis. He was looking at it as well.

“That is
bad
!” she explained. She reached forward, wrapping her gloved fingers around the shaft of his penis. He froze in answer to her touch. She gave it a gentle pump,
milking out another, larger size droplet. “I don’t allow pre-come,” she explained, “this is B-A-D.” She enforced her lesson by giving a harder squeeze. She loved the
dramatic impact of saying “no” and “bad” to physical reactions people thought involuntary. Amanda knew that, in time, if he came back, he would learn to control such
impulses.

But Amanda’s impulses were hers to indulge. She flipped over, straddling Sam’s lap, facing him. Her body pressed his hard penis flat against his stomach. The buckles of her corset
dug into his skin. His head was buried between her covered breasts. This was too much pleasure for him; she grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his head away. She rocked
her hips, thrusting hard onto him. She knew her extra weight was agony to his backside. She felt his hot breath fanning her. She released his hair. He obediently kept in place. His face betrayed
the conflicting mix of pleasure and suffering she was causing.

“That’s it, my little puppy,” she cooed.

It surprised her that he came this soon. She felt his penis pumping between them like a detached entity. His eyes closed; he was panting. When it was over, he gazed up at her. Tears filled his
eyes again.

“Oh, that is cute,” commented Amanda. “Are you crying from pleasure or pain?” It was careless of him to stare, but she let this indiscretion slide. He was a newbie: he
would learn.

“I’m sad because it’s over,” he said softly.

Good answer, thought Amanda.

She got off him, inspecting the mess that was now on her crotch. Luckily, semen was easy to clean from latex. She smeared her fingers into the milky liquid and touched it to his lips. She
painted it across his mouth.

“Lip gloss looks good on you,” Amanda said gently. Sam extended his tongue, licked his lips clean.

“Mistress Amanda,” he said softly, “that was fantastic. Thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t expect such kind treatment next time,” she interrupted. “I’m just in a generous mood.”

She watched him dress. As she did, it struck her why he had such an effect.

“You know, you remind me of an old friend,” she said, as he was ready to leave.

“I hope that is a good thing,” Sam added, doubt on his face.

“Yes, it is.” She walked him back to her desk. “So, I think you should see me soon.”

“I would love to see you again. But,” he added, “I’m leaving town next week for a five-day seminar.” They agreed to another session in two weeks.

“Good, I will see you then.” She reclined on her antique chair. “Be prompt!”

“Yes, I will,” he said. He turned, the door slid open, and he left the room.

Amanda studied the monitor. She spied on him walking down the hall. He rubbed his backside again as he waited for the elevator. Amanda smiled. She initiated a deeper search on this man, her EOS
snapping to attention like a loyal slave. More information was needed on a man who affected her this way. Was it just physical similarities to David? No, it was something else. She was determined
to ferret it out.

“Well.” Amanda placed the glass of wine down on the table. “Relationships often get complicated for me. People try to change me.”

Sam sat across the table, staring at Amanda’s plate of fresh oysters. Even though he had been seeing her for six months, he was nervous. After their last session together, he had got up
the courage to ask Amanda if she’d like to have dinner one evening. She had immediately agreed, allowing Sam to iron out the details.

He prayed everything would go perfectly. He feared Amanda would feel hiring the limousine was a bit overboard, but she was delighted. She once mentioned her love of seafood; the restaurant he
picked was noted for it. Since it was midweek, the place was not crowded. Tonight qualified as a legitimate date, at least in Sam’s mind. As far as he could tell, Amanda felt the same
way.

“Lemon,” she said, staring down at her appetizer.

Sam selected a lemon slice, and squeezed it over one of the shellfish.

“Good boy,” Amanda commented, as she raised the shell to her lips, sucking in the raw, glistening creature. Sam’s appetizer of smoked salmon and dill sauce had so far remained
untouched.

“My pleasure,” Sam responded. “I can see how some people would be threatened by your career. I mean, the things you do to people.”

“So, honey,” she deepened her voice, to imitate a man’s, “how was your day?”

“Oh,” Sam replied, feminizing himself, “just some cock-and-ball torture, and the toilet training of a sloppy slave.” They burst into laughter, drawing the attention of an
older couple, who looked to be having dinner with their daughter.

“Female dominance pervades my life,” Amanda continued more quietly. “You know that much about me now. On the other hand, I cannot be dominant every moment of the day. I like to
cuddle beside the fire with my lover, or go to a movie in regular clothes.” She smiled, adding, “Or being taken out to dinner with a nice guy.”

Sam smiled back, his nervousness abating.

“For most people, our lifestyle is just a brief fantasy,” Sam offered. “It sounds cliché but, for example, say you have a certain type-A executive. All day he bosses his
underlings around and acts as if he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s married, with kids. A Conservative. But every so often, instead of his usual lunch break, he
visits his dominatrix. She bosses him around. Makes him beg.”

“Thank goodness for such people,” Amanda commented. “They pay my bills!” She stared down at her plate; only one oyster remained.

“Hot sauce!”

Sam obliged, then continued. “But, after a session, his kinky needs are satisfied. He commutes back to his suburban lifestyle, ashamed of what he needs.”

Amanda interrupted, “Hopefully, his dominatrix was skilful enough not to leave any marks.”

Sam laughed. “But this part of such people’s lives is compartmentalized, isolated from the rest of their lifestyle.”

“Yes,” agreed Amanda. “But then you have those precious people, rare ones who have this compulsion deep inside them.”

Amanda’s vision was locked on Sam’s hands. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “you remind me of David. That does not bother you, does it?”

“No,” Sam lied. “That’s OK.”

The spirit of David often wormed its way into Amanda’s conversations. He had worked for a tech firm on a secretive government project. The goal was a direct human-to-computer contact. His
team’s breakthroughs lead to the first operational EOS. But as soon as major progress was made, the government barged in, stopping the project. Just after that, David and most of his
colleagues were killed in an airline accident. Amanda and David had been lovers for three years.

“I never told you that the Cobalt Blue Tarantula was a gift of David’s. Much research was done with insects and spiders in the early days of the project. The EOS emulates the hive
mentality of insects. Some insect colonies are composed of millions of individuals, all subservient to the needs of the whole. How does one end of an ant colony know what the other end is doing?
Years ago, it was believed chemical messengers, called pheromones, were the only thing responsible for hive discipline. It is so organized, the hive or colony is sometimes referred to as the
‘super-organism’: thousands of individuals, codependent, linked together, so intimately joined they act as one living entity. Arachnids were also investigated. Many web spiders build a
retreat in which to hide. If you pluck a spider from its web, it instantly runs to its retreat when you return it. It knows the right direction to run to, no matter where you place it in the web.
It always knows, even if you blind it. It was discovered that the web is a vast extension of the spider’s nervous system. The web is an organ of the spider, as much as our skin is part of
us.